The Babysitter and the Barista
by nefarious-marshmallow
Summary: Seven years after Hogwarts, Draco’s a barista and Hermione spends her dateless Saturday nights babysitting Ginny’s children. He’s closed off, and she’s in denial. What could they have in common besides that they’re losers?


**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling owns them all. I'm just having a bit of fun here.

"_Seen you at your worst and I must admit it's nowhere near as bad as you might find it." – "Said Unheard" Jay Legaspi_

Hermione Granger, who'd just ended her search for a decently isolated cafe, did not expect to see Draco Malfoy working at the counter of the Brimstone Brew.

"Don't say a word," Draco muttered, handing her a cappuccino dripping with excess froth. She thanked him out of habit and found a seat next to the window.

She'd finished a quarter of her work and half her drink by the time Draco's shift ended. He sat down in front of her, wiping caramel sauce from his fingers with a damp paper towel. "It's only a day job," he sighed, but she suspected that he was lying. "You came in on a good day. I'll be out of here in a month, maybe sooner, if things work out."

Hermione took a long sip from her forgotten beverage, which now tasted slightly lukewarm. "For what it's worth, you make a good coffee."

"Are you doing anything tomorrow night?" Draco asked, after they'd skimmed over seven years of weddings, rented apartments, and even the occasional death. Somehow, much to both parties' relief, they'd avoided from the topic of Draco's career and Hermione's home life.

At the restaurant the next evening, they spent more time catching up on other people than on each other, which took little effort considering the amount of mutual gossip-worthy targets between them. _Or perhaps it's the strength of the wine,_ Hermione mused, reviving the topic of Blaise and Ginny's crash wedding once they'd exhausted the jokes from Goyle's affair with Michael Corner.

"So let me get this straight – you're the Boy Who Lived's ex-girlfriend's official babysitter," Draco said, after Hermione described how she'd gotten the long scratch on her forearm. "Honestly, Granger, I expected more from you."

"Says the twenty four year-old who stirs lattes for a living," Hermione said.

"Have another glass of wine," said Draco, who then spent several seconds pretending to chew his food.

Hermione's temples throbbed long into the next morning. "Draco Malfoy, expert barista?" Ginny said, while Hermione helped her mix formula for the twins. "That's definitely just a day job. How else would he have paid for that meal?"

"I told you, he knows the manager."

"Draco Malfoy is not supposed to be nice to you."

"Well, you weren't supposed to have three children with Blaise Zabini."

Thanks to Ginny's constant clamoring and Hermione's moral obligation to go wherever she was needed, she would be late. This was all Ginny's fault. Hermione repeated the name in her mind to block out the other ones – well, it was just one, really. She absentmindedly crossed the road while the light was yellow. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny.

"Hermione," her boss said, and Hermione started up. "First tardiness, and now you've forgotten to hand in that report. Are you feeling all right today?"

The main reason Hermione hated being _Hermione Granger_ was the expectations that came along with the name. She was an able worker. She finished all her projects on time. Good God, couldn't people just give her a break once in awhile?

"It's just unlike you," was the response Hermione got when she reiterated those thoughts. "I mean, you didn't even ask for a sick day after…well, you know."

"That's because I wasn't sick," said Hermione. Honestly, she might as well have caught malaria considering the amount of charity she received after her and Thomas' breakup six months ago. "You can say it straight out. An old engagement isn't in the same league as Voldemort."

"I suppose you're right. Your productivity has increased tenfold since."

What else could people really expect, anyway? She was _Hermione Granger_ – star student, star office worker, star babysitter, everything but a star fiancée, apparently.

"He's not going to call," Ginny had assured her two years prior, while watching Hermione crush the remains of a deviled egg. But Thomas had proved her wrong, and the next night, Hermione subdued her merriment while Ginny sulked by the bathroom door.

"I'll stay over with my parents tonight if you want," Ginny said.

"Oh please, I wouldn't bring Thomas back here after the second date."

"I mean, now that things are going well for you, I probably should stay out of the way. Harry was a month ago, anyhow. I don't know why I'm still breaking down like this."

Hermione wasn't in the mood to console her friend tonight of all nights, but goddamn that moral obligation…"Ginny, that month wasn't too long ago."

"Says you. Harry's already got a new girlfriend."

"Pansy Parkinson's an in-between and you know it." Hermione fastened her coat and headed toward the door. "Go out with Blaise Zabini for revenge or something. Anyway, expect me back at around midnight."

"He's not picking you up?"

"No, we're meeting at the restaurant."

"And that's not a problem?"

It's a minor detail, Hermione thought to herself, as she scanned the restaurant for Thomas' face. It's a minor detail, she told herself again at ten past midnight when Thomas laughed off her concerns about checking in with Ginny.

It's a minor detail, Hermione said, when Thomas forgot to compliment her appearance. He did mention her hair. That was good enough.

It was also a minor detail when Thomas forgot to return a few of her calls, or when he waited more than two months before making their relationship official.

It was only a minor detail when he would work late on some nights. Besides, she was _Hermione Grange_r, who, more than almost anyone, should understand the value of hard work.

Later she took great pains to remind everyone that Thomas' departure was only a minor detail in itself. It wasn't as if she expected him to return; she just didn't think it was a big deal, that was all. She had other things to focus on. She was young. There were plenty of other fish in the sea. They thought she'd be depressed and devastated and she would prove them wrong if it killed her.

"So were they wrong?" Draco asked her, after breaching the topic became inevitable.

"Of course they were," said Hermione. "I'm fine. Well, I cried for days afterward, of course, but that's in the past. I got over it soon enough. All it took was a little stamina and a little forgiveness."

"But why? He hurt you. You can't forgive that."

"I forgave you."

Draco lowered his eyes. "That's because you're a good person."

Hermione shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "I just like doing the right thing."

"I don't believe you. People might want to do the right thing, but nobody actually _likes_ doing it."

"Draco," Hermione interrupted him. "Why are you even talking to me now?"

"Why shouldn't I? I'm Draco Malfoy. I can do whatever I want."

"You looked at me like I was Bobutuber pus back in Hogwarts."

"Like I said, I can do whatever I want, wherever I want," Draco reminded her. "Get real, Granger. You haven't actually forgiven me. You're just too dumbfounded by our having sandwiches together to feel anything else."

Hermione pondered this, and the question (Draco's, not hers) of why she'd even loved Thomas in the first place.

"It was his morning hair," she decided out loud, during dinner at Draco's modest apartment. "He usually kept it so neat. I liked seeing it all spiky and unkempt. He'd be so embarrassed."

"That means he's a narcissist," said Draco, emptying he bag of pasta into the pot of boiling water strand by strand.

"Excuse me, who spends twenty minutes every morning adjusting his collar? And he had personality, and lots of hobbies, and even more eccentricities."

"Good God, Granger, even Hagrid had those things and I don't remember you jumping his bones. And a guy does not need to spend an obscene amount of time in the mirror when he's already gifted with good looks. Case in point," Draco motioned toward himself.

"Thomas was intellectual, and maybe a little distant because of it, but once he opened up, I couldn't help but fall in love with him. Come on, Malfoy. Everybody has something to offer."

"Listen to yourself," said Draco, wincing after the frying pan sprayed him with hot oil. "You're definitely not over him."

"If I weren't over him, I'd be cursing and calling him a jerk to cover up my feelings."

"But getting all dreamy over his hair means otherwise. I get it."

"I've recovered enough so that I can remember him for how he was," Hermione said, stirring the tomato sauce with little precision. Draco smirked, but didn't press the topic.

For days afterward, Hermione blew off Ginny's questions about the nature of her relationship with Draco. There wasn't anything going on. They shared the occasional tea break or spaghetti dinner and sometimes watched movies afterward, but how was that really different than what she did with Ron and Harry during their bachelor days?

"You're really quite good at lying to yourself," said Ginny.

"I've heard that one before."

"That's because it's true," Ginny said. "Seriously, Hermione, we don't know anything about this guy. I asked Blaise about Malfoy and he said they lost touch years ago."

"Is it so bad to give someone the benefit of a doubt?"

"Goddammit, Hermione, I know you're a good person, but you've really got to watch out for yourself. Don't you think it's a little strange that his own former chum and fellow Slytherin hasn't heard from him in years? All I'm asking for is Malfoy's real career. A bank account. A criminal record. Dig up his files if you have to."

"You talk about him as if he's a fugitive of the law," said Hermione, handing Ginny a bottle of formula. "Things might've been weird before, but he's a normal guy deep inside. Really."

"A brief history of Draco Malfoy, post-Hogwarts," Draco said, after Hermione decided that her convincingly normal friend deserved an equally normal interrogation. "I wonder why you didn't ask for one earlier."

"The people we know are far more interesting."

"Ahh, life as a gossip – I'll have you know that this is exactly how I envisioned my adulthood going."

"Just get on with it."

Draco's dry, autobiographical recollections culminated in a long list of non-Ginny-approved factoids.

"So he's a professional dishwasher at a corner coffeehouse, he has no girlfriend or wife, and he lives off of tips and connections with the world of table-waiting. Great choice, Hermione," Ginny said, once Hermione finished relaying the information back to her.

"Have a heart, Gin," Hermione shook old copies of _The Daily Prophet_ in her face. "His family was practically broke after Lucius repaid generations of wizard families for his war crimes."

"Look, I don't mean to toot my own horn, but my siblings and I are doing pretty well for having grown up in the Burrow."

"You guys are war heroes," Hermione pointed out. "No respectable office would even think about hiring Draco considering the stigma associated with his lot."

"But Hermione," said Ginny, and Hermione knew she'd argued herself into a corner. "It's not as if we're fresh graduates scouting the job market. Hogwarts was seven years ago. Seven! A lot of our classmates are married, some of us are parents, and the ones that are neither are working – and I don't mean working to earn minimal wage, I mean that they have actual careers. Draco might have a history, but he's not incompetent. God knows he has enough brains to get past the reputation. He led the Death Eaters into Hogwarts right under Dumbledore's nose! Dumbledore's! So what's he doing grinding coffee beans from nine to five?"

So maybe the picture was a little fuzzy. but by God, she'd fix it, if only to prove Ginny wrong.

"But of course you don't trust me," Draco said, this time over Indian takeout. "You haven't forgiven me for Hogwarts."

Hermione scraped at the last bits of her curry rice. She really shouldn't have been surprised at Draco's subverted or otherwise vague responses to her questions about his personal life. The Malfoys were, after all, notoriously private as characteristic of their elitism – that, and their shady connections – but after all her dogged efforts to let go, who was she to judge Draco based on schoolyard taunts and begrudging treachery? "Well, clearly you don't trust me either since you refuse to tell me anything about yourself."

"Why should I?" said Draco. "I haven't forgiven you, either, but at least I'm not pretending to have done so."

"Forgiven me? What the hell did I ever do to you? Our side saved your asses during the final battle."

"I'm talking about your general moralizing attitude," said Draco. "You're still know-it-all Granger, expert at what's right and best for everybody. Maybe it's been seven years since Hogwarts, and maybe there aren't separate sides for us to be on anymore, but you're still always on the lookout for someone to help. You hang around me because you think that I need a friend. You try and make me talk because it's 'healthy' for me to open up. Goddamit, Granger, you'd be so much more interesting if you didn't try to be such a good person."

"And what's wrong with trying your best?" said Hermione. "Maybe if you worked a little harder, Malfoy, you'd be doing something with your life."

"There you go," said Draco. "What the hell do you know about being worthwhile, Granger? Didn't your fiancé dump you after four months of engagement?"

Hermione blinked, sat still for a moment, and stood up. She almost expected Malfoy to call after her, maybe even whimper her name with remorse and hesitation, but of course he just sat there, arms crossed and back against the chair, indifferent to whether she stayed or left.

This is it, Hermione decided. _This is the melodramatic farewell I knew was coming since the day we essentially buried the hatchet over coffee and gossip about Harry and Pansy._ She'd known right then and there that this friendship couldn't possibly last. After all, she was Hermione Granger – always right, but always stubborn to listen, even to herself.

She spent the next month babysitting Blaise and Ginny's three children while the couple "rekindled the romance" at various cottages and resorts. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" Ginny asked each time, but Hermione assured her it wasn't a big deal. When mathematically considered, Draco's absence caused hardly a dent in her schedule. She slept and woke up at the same time, she spoke to the same meager people at work, and she made all of her deadlines. She might as well have never walked into the café that Saturday afternoon.

"How's Draco?" Blaise inquired one Sunday afternoon, which Ginny spent practically in a coma after their latest, ahem, "exhausting" venture on the outskirts of Liverpool.

"Same as usual," Hermione said blandly.

"Oh," said Blaise. "Well, I was just asking since the Brimstone Brew closed down last Wednesday."

"What!"

"Well, it's more like the owner couldn't keep up with the finances anymore so he sold it to some corporate Muggle company."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, the place was always kind of decrepit anyway."

"I can't say," said Blaise. "I never really went there. So Malfoy didn't say anything? Aren't the two of you friends?"

"I wouldn't put it on that level," said Hermione. "But I've seen him around a few times."

"Really," said Blaise. "Well, the way Ginny kept harping at me to go on a double date with you two, I assumed you were, er, involved – or at least close."

"Well, we're not," Hermione said, which she swore earned her a pitying look from Blaise.

_Like father, like son; like husband, like wife is more like it,_ thought Hermione, when for days afterward, Ginny rang twice a day or stopped by her apartment with various casseroles and pastries.

"This is for babysitting last weekend," said Ginny, unwrapping a homemade cheesecake in Hermione's kitchen. "Feel free to come over anytime if you need company or a friend or something."

Although Ginny's baking wasn't half-bad, Hermione decided, while binge-eating in front of the telly one evening, she had to wonder what about her solicited people's charity. Come on, she was _Hermione Granger_ – smart, capable, and more literate than half the wizards her age. Sure, she was single, but it wasn't as if she didn't have loads of time to find a suitable husband. Was it that she'd been dumped? She shoved another bite into her mouth and swallowed down the bitterness of her last conversation with Draco.

Draco. She hated admitting it to herself, but she thought of him at least once a day. Maybe he was right. Maybe she didn't really know how to let go on her own. After Draco's arrival, she'd slacked off on the habits brought about by her broken engagement. She'd begun reading for fun again. She'd stopped babysitting on call. She'd even stopped humming "All By Myself" in the shower. She'd never admit it, but without him, she wouldn't have gotten over her last heartache.

And then one day in the office, when Hermione had finally gone through a whole morning wondering about Draco's whereabouts, he showed up as if expecting her to talk to him.

"Granger," he said curtly, closing the door behind him. "If I'd known you still worked here, I would've stopped by earlier."

Typical Draco, making excuses and trying so hard to appear as though he had no pretenses. "Not all of us lose our jobs overnight, Malfoy."

"I pity those who do," Draco replied. "Hopefully you and I will never find ourselves in that position. When's your lunch break?"

"I don't have one. I need to work."

"And we need to talk."

"What's there to talk about?"

"I got hired last week," Draco said. "I work pretty close to you now. Two floors up, in fact."

"I hate to break this to you, Malfoy, but most people don't give a shit about your life."

"I thought that you would, at least."

"So you only talk to me when things are going well, then? When you actually have something to brag about? There's a company newsletter for that. Go look for an ego boost there."

This time it was Draco's turn to blink and stay still before a misshapen grin eased across his face. "Remember the time you slapped me in third year, Granger? Because I do. It made you a lot more of an interesting person than that brainy swot taking up the front row in all her classes."

"Get the hell out of here."

"Why the hostility, Granger?"

"Is this a trick question?" Hermione asked, as Draco unbuttoned his jacket. "Think back, Malfoy. Think back to Indian food. Think back to calling me something along the lines of a moralizing know-it-all. Then you sided with my ex-fiance over his dumping me. Insert a timeframe of oh, say a month, between then and now with no contact whatsoever."

"You've gotten so much more interesting since then, Granger, and you have no idea," Draco said, giving himself a seat. She was losing it, and Draco Malfoy and his stupid smirk were only making it worse. She needed to act professional. She needed to be mature. She needed to be a Gryffindor. She needed to be _Hermione Granger._

"Let me make this clear," she said. "Just because I'm a little upset right now doesn't mean that I haven't forgiven you."

Draco nearly had a seizure. "Oh my God, Granger, I wouldn't believe that if you were pre-drugged with Veritaserum."

She knew she was telling the truth. Maybe he'd hurt her feelings, and maybe he did act like a bit of an ass, but that didn't mean he was a hopeless case, or that he should be denied a second chance.

"Hermione," Draco gave her shoulders a quick shake. "Stop trying so hard. Call me names. Hex my legs out from under me. Cast an Unforgivable, even. We're not in the classroom anymore, so stop being such a goody-goody and act like a human being for once."

Hermione offered him a cup of tea.

"Well if this isn't anti-climactic," said Draco, while Hermione poured the water. "I'm serious, Granger. You need to lose your temper. Throw your drink in my face. Just stop acting so fucking possessed and be honest with yourself."

"Were I to do that, you would focus on my anger instead of what I actually have to say," said Hermione, pushing a cup in his direction

"If you think people will honestly give two shits about your ideas because you're _Hermione Granger,_ then you really are delusional," said Draco. "You're a textbook with vocal chords – bland, boring, and unoriginal. So before you tell people to grow up, why don't you grow a fucking personality."

"It's funny that you should mention honesty," said Hermione. "When, after spending time together for weeks, you still haven't told me a damn thing about yourself."

"Why the hell should I trust someone who can't admit that she's sad over her ex-fiance? Why should I trust a Gryffindor who treats Draco Malfoy like he's the fucking reincarnation of Albus Dumbledore?! If you want to know the truth, Granger, I'll give it to you as soon as you convince me that you're just a run-of-the-mill, twenty-something WITCH who deals with her total lack of a love life by eating comfort food paid for by the money she earns babysitting her ex-boyfriend's sister's kids."

"Is that what you want, then? For me to treat you like shit? For us to repeat Hogwarts all over again? If I remember correctly, Malfoy, YOU were the one who had coffee with me. YOU were the one who invited me to dinner. YOU were the one who kept inviting me over to cook. I didn't ask for you to do ANY of those things! I don't care whether you're a dishwasher or Minister of Magic. I just," Here, Hermione paused for breath. He was damn right and she knew it and she was making a total ass of herself like the loser she knew she was. "I just want to know why the hell a Slytherin makes tea for, cracks jokes to, and makes amends with Hermione Granger as if she's the heir to Slytherin herself."

For a moment, Draco responded only by scratching his cuticles. Hermione watched him pointedly, impatient yet afraid of what he might answer. Begrudgingly, Draco sighed as if the answer were perfectly obvious. "I said I haven't forgiven you. I never said I didn't like you."

"Malfoy, you just called me a delusional has-been."

""Well, I meant it."

"God," Hermione said, turning toward the sink and yanking on the faucet. "I don't know what to do with you sometimes."

"Then don't do anything," he said, and she noticed for the first time the smile replacing the smirk. "I heretofore free you from the responsibility of reforming me under the condition that you remain a contentedly neurotic psychopath."

"Oh, what an offer," said Hermione.

"Only for the most deserving," Draco said, taking the teacup out of her hand and turning off the faucet.

Later that night, while Hermione's temples still throbbed from the wine, she would ask Draco if she were really crazy. "You're not," he would reply, serving her coffee for the first time since his days as a barista. "It's just not a normal time."

"No," and Hermione would respond by taking his hand in hers. "It's not." After all, she was _Hermione Granger_, and if anyone should know what "normal" is – well, it definitely wasn't her.

**A/N:** This story was written for the Fall of 2007 dmhgficexchange hosted on the Livejournal community of the same name. Originally titled "Being a Good Person is Highly Overrated," "The Babysitter and the Barista b" is my contribution for kuroineko007


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